Crazy talk

Well I may not know who Johan Cruiff is let alone how to spell it but I know my integration is complete and I’m totally-Dutchified when 11 degrees celcius makes me think it might be spring. I’ve earnt that certificate!

There was a time when 11 degrees was a bitterley cold winter’s day and at work we would swap details of hats and scarves, overcoats, layers of tights under our trousers and thermal underwear. This was in Melbourne. The COLD part of Australia.

Now, I’m riding home from work, its 11 degrees and I find myself thinking “You know it feels like spring”! This lunacy is confirmed by roadsides covered in daffodils and croci, weather reporters announcing the arrival of Spring and the streets full of people wearing T-shirts and their best new spring clothes. Nice to be sharing a mass-delusion then. Can the sun be ANY waterier? But at least its there!

February is always a mad bad blur for me, the month in which I finally give up and the greyness takes over. This year it was all the worse as between the three of us at least one has been sick almost every week since Christmas. Finally there seems to be light at the end of the tunnel! Temporarily sideswiped by the theft of the moeder-fiets and a late but hefty dose of a stomach flu I admit but I’m remaining optimistic.

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